by Joyce Alec
A lump formed in Emma’s throat.
“And one small incident—”
“Small?” cut in Mary, glaring at Jack.
“Yes, one small blunder has caused you to cast aside all of the other things that I had done that more than proved my affection for you. How could so much time cultivating be cast aside with one mistake?”
“It was no small mistake,” Mary said. “Disloyalty is one of the worst traits a man can have.”
“And it does make me wonder if anything like that had ever happened before,” Emma said with more force than she intended.
“Of course not!” Jack exclaimed. “Never! And it never will again!”
“Please step out of the way,” Mary said. “I am tired of hearing these excuses.”
“Emma, how do you know who this man is? Wouldn’t you be so much better off marrying someone who you know?”
Emma tried to ignore him as she and Mary walked passed him and back out into the sunshine.
“Even with all my flaws? At least you are aware of them!” he said, following after them. “You know nothing of this man aside from what he has written down on paper! And how do you know that he is telling the truth?”
Emma’s original conversation with Mary flashed back into her mind, and she had asked herself that question several times over. What if Clyde was worse than Jack? What if he treated her poorly, or was unkind? What if he was a liar?
“My family is a good family,” Jack said. “I would be able to provide for you for the rest of your life. You would be comfortable. Remember that large cabin that you wanted me to build? With the porch overlooking the river?”
Emma flushed. Why would he bring that up now? Was he really so manipulative to stoop to that level to get her to listen to him? Her heart clenched in her chest, and she fought the stinging in her eyes that told her tears were not far behind.
She had fought so hard to bury all of this, to forget Jack completely. And here he was, reminding her how very important he had once been to her.
“Emma, I am still me,” Jack pleaded. “I haven’t changed all that much. Maybe a bit more filled with sorrow these last weeks, but I am still in here. I still wish to marry you. I want to make it up to you, fix the damage that has been done. And I still love you.”
“Please—” Emma said. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true…”
Emma turned away and started back up the street, Mary following closely after. They had started to draw the attention of passersby, and she did not think that any of them should be hearing what they were saying.
They walked in silence, Mary doing nothing more than glancing over her shoulder occasionally. Emma was grateful. She did not want Jack to follow her.
Mary didn’t say anything until they had reached the house once more.
“Are you all right?” she asked Emma, her eyes tight with concern.
“Yes,” Emma said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t believe that he just…came right out and said all of that!” she cried, slamming her hands onto her hips. “Who does he think he is? And what makes him think that we would believe him for a moment?”
“I wanted to…” Emma replied.
Mary looked at her in surprise.
“I really did want to believe him,” Emma said. “It would make everything so much easier. To stay and marry someone I know…to believe that he still cares for me…”
Emma sighed and shook her head.
“But no…I could never believe it completely. There would always be a small part of me that would question it, wonder if his gaze was ever lingering on some other woman. I would never be able to fully trust him, and to not be able to fully trust my husband would be the greatest difficulty I would face.”
Mary pulled Emma into a tight embrace.
“That is very wise of you…” she said gently.
“He is from a good family, and has a very good job…” Emma went on. “He knew exactly what to say to me, Mary. He knew exactly what would make me think about it.” She sighed. “He does know me very well, and that was a shocking reminder. He even remembered what sort of house I wanted…it just showed me how close we had been, and the depths of what we had lost. It is all very desirable to any woman. The security alone was enough to give me pause. But…”
“Clyde?” Mary asked. “You still think he might be the right one?”
Emma nodded. “Something in my soul is telling me that I must take this chance, Mary. I must go to him. I believe that putting my name on that advertisement was my destiny, you know? I don’t know if I would ever be able to forgive myself for passing up the opportunity.”
“So that settles it, then?” Mary asked. “You still plan to go to Colorado?”
“I do,” Emma said.
Mary nodded sadly. “All right, then.”
“And Mary?” Emma asked.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for standing up for me. It meant more to me than you will ever know.”
Mary beamed. “What are sisters for?”
3
“Are you sure that you won’t stay here?” Mary asked as she watched the men in the carriage load Emma’s trunk up into it.
Emma, who was standing just inside the doorway, holding Mary’s hands tightly in her own, smiled sadly at her.
“My answer has not changed,” she replied. “I am sad to be leaving you. I really am.”
Mary hung her head. “You’ll be happy in Colorado, won’t you?”
Emma grinned. “Clyde and I are becoming fast friends. His letters have just made me feel more and more at ease. He really is a wonderful sort of man. I don’t believe a man with poor intentions would be able to produce such eloquent prose.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “I certainly hope you are right.”
“Plenty of women have used this service and found wonderful husbands,” Emma reminded her for likely the hundredth time. “You know Mrs. Ellis? She met her husband through the Matrimonial Times. And they are both wonderful people.”
Mary sighed. “You’re right. I know. This is all just very…hard to deal with.”
Emma’s eyes began to sting, and she embraced her sister.
“I shall write to you every day,” she said. “I may be a busy wife, but while my husband is off working, I shall have time to tend to things that I want to.”
“I know,” Mary said. “Well, I will look forward to all of those letters. I look forward to hearing when you finally are with child—”
“Oh, Mary!” Emma said, blushing furiously.
“Well, you are going to be married,” Mary teased. “I expect you will be a wonderful mother,” she said kindly. “I will be very happy to meet any nieces and nephews of mine soon.”
Emma smiled.
“So, you are to be married the very same day that you arrive?” Mary asked.
“Yes,” Emma replied. “That way we can spend our first night together under the same roof. It makes little sense to wait. If the whole reason why I am moving all the way out to Colorado is for us to be married, why not just have it be that same afternoon?”
“It all seems very fast.”
“It is,” Emma agreed. “But I think this is best. I have made the choice. I mean to honor it.”
Mary peered closely at Emma. “And you have still not spoken with Jack?”
“Not once,” Emma said.
“All those letters he sent…” Mary said. “And you haven’t read a single one?”
“I tossed them all straight into the fire.”
“I feel guilty,” Mary said. “It makes me wonder if he was telling the truth.”
Emma’s heart fluttered. “I wondered that too. But I have made my choice. It is not as if he might struggle to find another woman. Not at all. He will be fine. He will find love again.”
Emma and Mary lingered far too long after she bid farewell to her parents, attempting to say goodbye to one another, but all the while knowing that it would never be long
enough.
Emma cried the whole way to the train station.
The train was clean and comfortable. Emma was grateful for the small cabin she was able to have all to herself. Her husband-to-be had purchased her train ticket, and she was pleased that she had ample privacy. The only time she saw other people were when she wandered down to the dining cart for meals, or when she decided to linger in the hall. She met very nice people, including a woman who was making her way back to her hometown in Illinois.
“What were you doing in Ohio?” Emma asked her.
“Saying goodbye to my husband,” she replied, her nose wrinkling. She gave Emma a very pointed look. “Let me give you some advice, darling. Don’t ever get married. Worst decision that I could have made.”
“Oh,” Emma said, her cheeks turning pink. “Surely it isn’t all that bad…”
“It is when you have no say in it,” the woman replied. “When you don’t know the man before you marry him.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “When you don’t know him?”
“My parents arranged the marriage,” she said nastily. “Said he was reputable. Had a lot of money. I would never want for anything…” She scoffed. “A loving marriage was something I wanted. But he thinks that means buying my affections.”
The jewels at her throat and in her ears sparkled as she shook her head.
“He doesn’t understand. He never has, and he doesn’t listen.” The woman sighed heavily. “I regret not marrying a man that I actually knew. I had offers, but I turned them all down for one reason for another…” She looked up at Emma, smiling sadly. “Quite frankly, I don’t know why I am telling you all of this.”
Emma smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s quite all right. Sometimes we all just need someone to talk to.”
She attempted to not let the woman’s words bury themselves deep in her mind as she waited for the train to arrive in Colorado.
The Thursday that the train came to a stop in the small station was a cold one. Emma wrapped her shawl around herself as she stepped onto the platform, staring around.
It was her wedding day, and she was all alone.
Colorado was so different than Ohio. There were mountains stretching into the sky in the distance, all capped with snow. The sky was blue and clear. The air smelled like rich soil and pine trees.
She was nervous. She was in a foreign place looking for a stranger.
She pulled Clyde’s most recent letter from her bag.
I have dark hair and am rather tall. I will wear a red scarf to distinguish myself from the others at the station.
She peered around, both eager and terrified. Any moment now, she was going to see the man that she was to marry that very same day.
Every time her eye saw a glimpse of red, she wheeled around, only to be let down. She wasn’t sure that her heart could take very much more.
She didn’t have to wait very long, though. As she stared around, a man with broad shoulders and a red scarf around his neck appeared, having made his way through the crowds gathered around the platform.
He did indeed have dark hair, as dark as a raven, but his eyes were kind, and a bright blue. He had a wide jaw, a closely trimmed beard, and a gentle smile as he gazed at her. He must have known who she was just by the look on her face.
Her stomach dropped to her feet.
He was immeasurably more handsome than she had imagined he would be.
“Good afternoon,” the man said as he strode over to her. “Are you Miss Emma Waters?”
“I am,” she murmured, her cheeks as red as his scarf.
His face split into a wide grin. “I’m Clyde. Clyde Forester.”
She didn’t know what to do! Should she curtsy? Shake his hand? Throws her arms around his neck in an embrace?
But he didn’t seem to expect anything, for he knelt down and scooped up her trunk with one, quick motion.
“My, you didn’t bring very much,” he said.
Her cheeks burned as she recognized how strong he must be to lift it with such little effort.
“I didn’t expect I would need very much,” she replied. “I’m a woman with simple tastes.”
He grinned. “You and I are going to get along just fine,” he said.
He led her from the station with her trunk in his arms out to a small carriage waiting outside. The horses were still bridled and waiting.
He held out his hand to her, and when she took it, a wave of excitement and surprise washed over her. His grip was firm, yet gentle as he helped her up into the seat of the carriage.
“Our humble home is not very far from here,” he told her as he hopped up into the carriage beside her. “I shall show you and then…I suppose we can be off to the church.”
Her stomach lurched. All her fanciful images and daydreams were interrupted.
She was to be married. That very day. To this man who sat beside her and smelled of warm spices and elderberries.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he pulled the horses reigns toward himself, a crease appearing in his forehead. “You seem awfully pale all of the sudden.”
“I’m quite all right,” she replied slowly. “It’s just…” she stared around. “This is all a great deal to take in all at once.”
He smiled, and ushered the horses along to the road.
“Those mountains in the distance…they’re breathtaking,” Emma said. “And you were right. The sky is very big here. And wonderfully blue.”
She looked over at him. He was watching her with a contented grin.
“In Ohio, we were just preparing for the first snowfall of the year,” she said. “It was getting rather chilly.”
“Glad to see you have some warm clothes,” he replied. “I had some things made for you in case it was wretchedly cold when you arrived.”
“Made for me?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, off handedly. “I wanted to ensure that my new bride would be as comfortable as she could possibly be in her new home.”
She flushed with happiness.
They spoke of her trip as they rode along, and the longer she spent with him, the easier she realized it was to speak with him. He was a very tender spirit, and asked her questions and told stories in such a way that it felt effortless. He was very charming, and quite skilled in the ways of conversation. Emma was impressed more and more as they were together.
Relief had taken place of the immense fear that had been building throughout her whole trip to Colorado. She had not realized just how frightened she was to meet him, and how she had longed for him to be a good man.
Words would not be able to express the joy she felt at him being a far better man than she could have hoped for. She couldn’t wait to write to Mary and tell her.
“Here we are,” he said at last, slowing the horses’ gait. “Home sweet home.”
They were on the outskirts of what looked like a large farm field, with an orchard to one side, and a river that cascaded through. A small stone bride crossed over it, leading to a house on a small hill, surrounded by pine trees.
The house was large, with large windows, a chimney that was spewing smoke into the air made of lovely red stone, and…
“What a lovely porch…” she breathed.
“It was a feature that I insisted on,” Clyde said. “There’s something so desirable about sitting out on that porch in the evenings, watching the sun sink down below the mountains.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Could it have been any more perfect?
He gave her some time to sort through her bags for a change of clothes. She and Mary had picked out a special fabric for her wedding, one that almost shimmered in the light from the candles. The finest seamstress in town had made it for her, and she was very pleased with her work.
When she stepped out into the hall, wearing the shimmering white gown, and her hair plaited behind her, cascading all the way down her back, Clyde’s jaw nearly fell to the floor.
“You look…�
�� he said, fumbling with the hat in his hands. His cheeks flushed. “You look…well, I never thought…”
He cleared his throat, took a few steps toward her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. For as strong as he was, for as many muscles that were obvious even through his best coat, he was as tender as a lamb when he touched her.
“You look beautiful,” he said, far more confidently. His eyes sparkled as he looked into hers. “If I had known that you were as lovely as you are, I would have insisted you be here even sooner.”
She giggled like a small girl, but she understood.
“I feel the very same way about you,” she replied.
“Well, good,” he replied. “I suppose it is a fine job we are getting married, yes?”
He offered an extended arm to her, which she happily took.
“Shall we be off to our wedding, then?” he asked.
“I believe we should,” she replied.
It was a quiet affair, their wedding. The minister was a fine old man, sporting a long beard and very patient grey eyes. He told them exactly where they should stand, and what he was to say during the ceremony.
They were greeted by his mother, his sister, and his brother with his wife and children. His Mother cried when Clyde introduced her, and she gave her a swift hug after she had passed her a simple wild flower bouquet.
They stood together before the minister, joined hand in hand. It was all very surreal to her, but she knew it must be for him as well. Here they were, standing together at last, the words that they had written on the pages of their letters were paired with a voice. She looked into his eyes, thinking of nothing apart from him. They were blue, yes, but a rich sort of blue. Like a gemstone, or a clear stream at the peak of summer.
She was blessed beyond belief, and she was well aware of it. She wished that she had known how comfortable he would make her feel well before she had left Ohio. It would have made the wait so much easier, so much less stressful. She wondered why she had been so nervous in the first place.
